


pray god you can cope (i know you've got a lot of strength left)

by leopoldjamesfitz



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:21:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24905251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leopoldjamesfitz/pseuds/leopoldjamesfitz
Summary: They knew the risks.Jemma slides her hand up and down the length of his chest, and he knows from the look in her eye what she wants him to ask her. The things they practiced. He can almost hear her coaxing him forward, begging him to make sure they were successful.She couldn’t leave them vulnerable, after all.a S7 Crack(?) Theory based on episode 5.
Relationships: Leo Fitz/Jemma Simmons
Comments: 9
Kudos: 57





	pray god you can cope (i know you've got a lot of strength left)

There is nothing but the sound of soft snoring when they finally leave, tucking in RoRo at her side and Mack the Giraffe at her other. Jemma hovers a little bit longer than he does, although he hangs outside the door with his heart in his hand and the knowledge of what they are about to do sitting hard on his heart.

When he peeks in, Jemma is brushing away the errant strands of their daughter’s blonde hair, and brushing a kiss to her forehead. He’s already rehearsed what he will tell her in the morning, but it doesn’t make this moment any easier.

If anything, it makes it worse.

When she slides outside the door, closing it behind them, she sinks immediately into him, head tucking underneath his chin. There’s not enough of a difference in height between them for this to be all that comfortable, but he can’t find himself doing anything but wrapping her into a tight embrace and kissing the shell of her ear.

They know how to say goodbye; it’s like an old friend, always waiting, always welcoming, but they’ve never had to say goodbye in the way that they are now. Whatever this may lead to, whatever they may cause, they are unstoppable together.

It’s the only thing that will get him through the night tonight, long after she’s gone and her side of the bed is too cool for him to feel comfortable looking at. A reminder of what he’s lost. A reminder of what he has to live for.

She lets out a tiny squeak of a sob, and he swallows, dropping one hand down beside his hip, and pulling out their device from his back pocket. She pulls away as she feels it graze her arm, curiosity overtaking, and she looks down only for a second before her eyes meet his. Her nod is so tiny it’s almost unnoticeable.

He moves his hand from her waist to her head, gently cradling her skull as he aligns the injector with her brainstem. His lips fall to her forehead as he presses the trigger.

(He’ll swear he hears the little scoff of pain for months to come.)

Fitz guides her to their living room after that, brushing his fingers along the spot as though to soothe it. She stops wincing after a while, stops gripping onto his shirt for dear life; stops looking at him quite the same as she did before. But maybe he’s noticing these things because he knows every single last thing there is to know about her.

Maybe he’s overthinking it all.

They knew the risks.

Jemma slides her hand up and down the length of his chest, and he knows from the look in her eye what she wants him to ask her. The things they practiced. He can almost hear her coaxing him forward, begging him to make sure they were successful.

She couldn’t leave them vulnerable, after all.

“What time of year is it?” He asked, his throat swelling as she looked up at him. Her nose curled as she shook her head, completely unaware. “Do I like apple, or orange juice?”

She laughed a little, kissing the underside of his chin. “Water.” She answered easily. “Orange juice is too acidic and apple juice tastes like socks.”

She’s right, he thinks. That’s good – some memories. Enough to hold onto. But not all.

“When is my birthday?” It’s a bit of a harder one, he thinks. Maybe it’s not the most difficult – given they’ve celebrated countless birthdays since their beginning, but still. Baby steps.

She seems to contemplate his question for a second before tilting her head toward his, smiling wickedly. As if she’s achieved something. “August 19, 1987.”

She rhymes it off like it’s an old pattern, an old friend. It makes something twinge in his chest.

He looks at her, really look at her, exam all the parts that are still her, all the parts that he still loves, and finally whisper. “When is hers?”

Jemma doesn’t know.

He thinks she might be trying to fake it, thinking of dates somewhere in her head that may or may not be vitally important. But there is nothing. Not even a hint of recognition.

You take down the note in your head. “Where was our first, proper, not straight-out-of-Maveth date?”

“Camden market.” She answers easily. She seems in brighter spirits when she knows things. He tries not to think about how lost she will be when he’s not there to remind her.

“Where are we right now?” He asks again, tentatively. He doesn’t miss the blankness in her gaze. “What year is it, Jemma?”

She doesn’t know either of those questions.

“What is Rose’s favorite color?” He asks again, because this entire house is covered in pink and green and purple (her favorite) and it’s alarming sometimes, but it’s home.

Jemma shifts, tapping her fingers contemplatively against his chest. Her eyes droop from his, and she doesn’t quite meet his gaze when she asks quietly, hesitantly. “Who is Rose, Fitz?”

It’s all he needs to hear. It’s enough to break his heart.

“Good,” he says anyway, around his swelling throat and he buries his emotion into her hairline as he brushes another kiss there. “Good, good.”

He can’t find it in him to ask anything else. He thinks he’s heard enough.

When he wakes up – when did he fall asleep? – it’s to the sound of the door closing, and his back is stiff from where he’d fallen asleep on their couch. Her perfume envelopes him like a hug and he stares at the door for far longer than he’d like to admit.

In science, you take risks. He just hoped that this one was worth it.

* * * *

Dear Fitz – Just in case.mp4 | 250mb  
 ** _Dear Rose – Just in case.mp4 | 342mb_**  
Dear Me – Just in case.mp4 | 247mb

Hi Sweetheart. I hope you never have to see this, you know that, right? But God, I have to be prepared for everything. If you're seeing this, it's because I've forgotten. Maybe not just you. Maybe it's your Dad, too. Our life together. And I'm sorry.

We knew the risks when we went back and saved our friends. We knew that there could be... complications. I took that risk, because I wanted a better life for you. For all of us. I wanted you to know your family. I wanted to not miss them anymore.

Maybe that's selfish of me.

If you're seeing this, I hope it's not because I'm gone forever, too. But know that I love you. And that I'll always be with you. Make sure Daddy feeds you both something other than pizza, yeah?

I love you both.


End file.
